I didn’t set my alarm.
Why would I need to set one when I only had to be up and ready by 10:00 am? It seemed silly.
But I should have set an alarm.
I had a bad hangover from the lack of sleep the night before. Apparently, three hours just doesn’t quite cut it so when I finally went to bed late Friday night, my body said, “Thank you and we will not wake up until AFTER ten tomorrow.”
That was a mean thing you did, body. I missed meeting up with my friends to go to Lagoon. Boo.
Perhaps the universe was trying to tell me to stay home. Perhaps the universe knew what was going to happen. Perhaps the universe was worried about a little bird that would also be at Lagoon at the same time that I finally arrived. Perhaps the universe didn’t know that a little bird couldn’t dampen my spirits. Or could it…? Dun, dun, dun.
Obviously, you’ve implied that I found my way to Lagoon. I found more friends who were leaving at 11:00 am, so I ran around searching through bags in the back of my closet, under other bags, pushed into the corner under all of my skirts until I finally found my season passport.
That’s right. I am the proud owner of a SEASON passport to Lagoon. So cool.
Okay, back to our story. So JaNae, Christi, Mikelle, Josh and I arrive at Lagoon some time after noon and, of course, our destination is Lagoon-a-beach. The lines are shorter there and you can run around in a skimpy outfit in the sweltering July heat. Destination: waterslides!
HOWEVER, en route to the Lagoon-a-beach entrance, there are several obstacles that we must overcome.
First, we arrived at the parking lot with only ONE season parking pass, but we’re in TWO different cars.
“I’ll just go in and distract the parking lot attendant and you sneak in one of the cars,” I offered.
But I’m with honest friends. Can’t do that.
Let’s just tie a rope to JaNae’s car and “tow” it in with Josh’s car. Then, we’re not two cars, but really, one car, right? If you were the parking lot attendant, wouldn’t you just let that slide?
Instead, we drove JaNae’s car to a parking lot in the neighborhood, jumped in Josh’s car and honestly drove into the parking lot in ONE car.
Next obstacle: the parking lot.
Lagoon’s parking lot is not quite like the monstrosity that is Disneyland’s parking lot.
Did we park by Mickey? Donald?
No, I think we parked by Archimedes, just past Tarzan, but before Jessica Rabbit.
There are no cartoon characters adorning the parking lot of Lagoon. You just park on a random row and hope you can find it later. And today, there was a nice little girl, working for the park, directing traffic down a row of cars that were parked behind the White Rollercoaster.
“Drive past her,” Mikelle said. Apparently, she’s only a SUGGESTION.
So we drove past that obstacle and the obstacle glared at us and our obvious disregard for her parking lot authority. We drove past most of the rows of parked cars and suddenly, the world opened up to us with row after row of empty parking spots. Jackpot. We parked within 20 yards of the entrance.
Next obstacle: the fountain.
You wouldn’t think this was an obstacle for a group of adults, but it was for Mikelle. The fountain, just inside the park entrance, was like a tractor beam and once it had her in its strangely magnetic grasp, all we could do was stand and watch her walk around all the children straight for the middle. You might as well get wet before you enter Lagoon-a-beach. So she did, standing in the middle of the fountain until one of the streams of water dropped right on her head. Eventually, she walked out of it and we were able to advance.
Next obstacle: the trees.
I had never before thought of the trees overhanging the sidewalk leading into Lagoon-a-beach as obstacles. I would have instead, thought that it was the poor employees who stand around with a ginormous stuffed animal trying to convince you to try one of their rigged carnival games. Look! They shout… you could win this huge stuffed Noid! Why WOULDN’T you want to give it a chance? All you have to do is throw some darts at balloons that we actually made out of the same rubber they make white-water rafts out of. Good luck popping THAT.
Instead, we walked right past those carnival games and before you knew it we were under the trees. And these trees were filled with BIRDS. And these birds were filled with AMUSEMENT PARK FOOD. One particular bird wouldn’t be filled for too much longer. He was about to relieve himself, but not yet. Let me walk under him first. Okay, I’m under him. No go ahead, bird. POOP.
And there you have it. That obstacle got me. Gross. There was bird poop on my nose and dripping down my shirt. It looked like the bird had enjoyed a meal of leftover churros and diet coke, plus a little of that white stuff that is the bird-poop signature.
Not MY brand of summer fun.
I think I’ll fold that shirt and set it right on top of the pee shirt in my closet.
And that was the day that a bird pooped on me at Lagoon. The end.
P.S. This is what the alphabet would look like if there wasn’t a Q or R. Also, the rest of the day, despite the pooped-on shirt, I enjoyed myself mightily: racing my friends on the slides, getting a wedgie on the steep slide, then attempting to float around the lazy river on two tubes with JaNae and Christy. The only downside is I didn’t really get to tell Wendy happy birthday (the purpose of the trip) except for when I “hugged” her while she was laying out on her towel. She smelled like sunscreen. Ah… summertime.